The Ballerina Shaped Hole In His Heart
by illuminated-moon
Summary: Rich misses Grace, but he has to move on, everyone else has.


Rich stayed in Bristol, though he attended college. His teachers were proud, thinking that they had finally gotten through to him, his parents were even more proud, they thought he had seen the error of his ways, Anita cried, Kevin gave him a pat on the back, mumbling something like _'Well done son.' _Rich didn't think they should be proud, he wasn't doing it for them, or even for himself, but no one cared, not anymore, not that he was finally going somewhere, finally studying, he was going to do something with his life, but he didn't do it for his future, he didn't care about his future life, he did it for a life that was lost in the past, he did it for a girl who would never get to make a name for herself.

He did it for a girl who would never leave Bristol, never set foot outside it again, she would never go to college, never get a degree, she would never be able to get married, or start a family, she would never get to read them bedtime stories, or do her little girls hair, she would never be able to grow old, never be able to dance again. She wouldn't be there to put a smile on anyones face, she was gone, and that was it, she was history, like she was never there, like she never even mattered, she was there one minute, and gone the next.

Rich would often find himself humming along to some song she had once played, whilst she danced, or prepared for a show two weeks in advance, she had always made him watch, told him to correct her every mistake, as if he knew the first thing about ballet. She always laughed at his facial expression, it would always make her turn the music up louder and pull him towards her, she would dance round him, twirling and laughing, _'Come on, Richard! It's fun, try it!' _And she would continue to orbit around him like that until she became dizzy, she would then collapse into his arm and laugh until her stomach hurt.

He never knew such a sweet laugh could be so haunting.

After college he left Bristol for a while, he travelled to Paris, it was just as he had suspected, models, fashion, horrible food and ever worse people. He couldn't possibly imagine why she would want to come here, his beautiful, sweet love, the girl he had planned on spending the rest of his life with.

Maybe they would have moved in together after college, buy a little house, he would sell whatever he could to buy it. It would be small, but that was all they needed. She would garden and he would bring her drinks, grumbling as he did so, until she made him help, planting flowers or something he would never do if it weren't for her, they would then paint the walls, vibrant colours that made his head ache, but he didn't mind, because they made her smile, everything made her smile.

When he came back to Bristol, it was as if nothing had ever happened, people smiled and waved, a nice break from the pitiful looks he had received a year before.

He felt different too, he wasn't over her, how could he be? She had changed everything, both in her presence and in her absence. She was like Peter Pan, she would never grow up, always be that kid, that innocent, beautiful kid and he was Wendy, left alone, to grow up, to face reality, though it terrified him. Yes, this girl - the same girl that used to make him want to gouge out his eyes whenever she came skipping over with that smile plastered on her face, _that smile_, the smile that he would never see again, he had wasted so many years hating that smile, he despised himself for it - had made such an impression that the thought had crossed his mind, that he was similar to a disney character.

She would have been so proud.

Rich got a job, he worked in the local bank, it was boring, but the pay was good, he was settled. _He_, it was strange, he always thought he would be using_ they_, or _we_, never _he_ or _I. _He volunteered at the theatre on weekends, he told his friends it was to waste time, but they knew why, everyone knew.

The theatre was where he met Tara, she was a ballet teacher, her hair was always tied up in a tight bun, showing off her freckles, and pale skin, she was thin, her eyes were piercing blue, she was beautiful.

It wasn't supposed to happen, but it did. _They_ happened, she filled this emptiness, a ballerina shaped whole in his heart.

It wasn't long until they moved into their own cottage, off the outskirts of Bristol, fairly near Alo's farm. They painted the outside of the house white, and the inside walls cream, it was completely ordinary. There were no ornaments, no posters or fridge magnets. He told himself he would never compare the two of them, but it was only natural.

He couldn't help but feel if she was still here, that they would have their own cottage, the outside would be some mental colour that he would make him roll his eyes, and when she tried to defend it, by saying something like _'It's got character, you'll love it eventually!' _he would just pull her into a hug and say _'Whatever makes you happy.' _There would be ornaments galore, of ballerina's, postcards, whatever she could salvage. And the fridge, it would be covered in magnets, of places they had been, and he would have been happy, he would have gone to sleep without the sound of her laughter drifting through the wind, he would have been at peace, it wasn't fair, if she was at peace, why couldn't he be too?

She told him one rainy morning in July. _'You're going to be a dad!' _She just said it, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Tara would be a good mother, she would love that child with everything in her, Rich knew that, and he would love the child too, more than anything, almost. He had heard that you loved your child more than anyone, but he didn't. And he felt guilty.

_'Call her Grace, it'll be perfect!" _Liv suggested, Rich nearly hung up on her there and then. How could she even suggest something so idiotic? She missed her, he knew that, he had often bumped into her at the grave, when he had told Tara he was at work, she couldn't know, it would only hurt her, she deserved to be loved properly.

The grave was a sanctuary, he went there most days. He lay down beside it sometimes, telling her about his day, telling her about Tara, and how he was going to be a dad, how he wished she was here, that he wished she was going to be the mother to his child, he told her he missed her, he told her that everyday. She never replied, he knew she would never reply. She was gone, forgotten. The world kept spinning without her. Everything kept on going. Everyone moved on. Everyone except him.

It wasn't fair to make those sort of accusations, he knew that. Rich knew people still missed her, but they never showed it. Not that he did either. He kept secrets from Tara, he never told her about Grace, she didn't need to know, Grace was his, and he was hers. They would always belong to each other, nobody could change that.

Rich lay beside the grave, the rain was beating down upon his head. He had let his hair grow, remembering how Grace had liked it, Tara hated it, insisting her cut it as soon as possible, he told her he would.

It wasn't as if it happened gradually, it all just happened at once, as he lay there, he finally understood. He would never really move on, Grace, beautiful, sweet, innocent Grace was gone, and she would remain gone. And for as long as he lived, he would always have a ballerina shaped whole in his heart, he would always feel that emptiness, but he would have to live with it, and he would. Grace was brave, she was strong, and she loved like it was her last day on earth, she would have wanted the same for him, for everyone.


End file.
